See You
by Sapsorrow86
Summary: Sequel to See Me. In a small town big secrets don't stay secret for long.


Raul Gold wasn't one to dust and clean. He liked cooking but whatever other household chores he brushed aside, using the services of a cleaning company. He'd had to make his peace with the idea of strangers in his home while he wasn't there, touching his things. The lady the company usually sent, a homey woman in her late fifties with a softer version of Mrs Lucas's no-nonsense disposition, obeyed his instruction to the letter and was careful in the extreme with his antiques and such, for what he was grateful.

Sometimes, however, it happened that Mrs Potts was ill, and some young chit was sent in her place to do a passable job. He could always tell and he'd make sure to call and complain to they wouldn't send the same shoddy replacement twice. The girl of the other day had been particularly dismal, breaking every single one of his rules in order to do the job as quickly as possible. He'd taken care to carefully enumerate every single one of her faults and mistakes to her employers, with the unspoken threat that if she ever set foot in his house again the rent for their tiny little office space would skyrocket.

He expected that having Mrs Potts back the next day would put things to rights but around two-thirty in the afternoon his cell phone rang. It was his cleaning lady, voice full of apprehension.

"Mr Gold, I wanted to know if you'd moved the blue shirt from its usual place. I can't seem to find it anywhere."

Mrs Potts had been professional enough not to bat an eye when he'd instructed her never to clean a blue shirt hanging in the back of his closet, away from the rest of his clothes. It was slightly creased and looked worn but he'd been adamant that she was never to touch it, much less take it to Granny's, the only place that offered laundry service. She hadn't commented when he'd stroked the fabric of the shirt almost lovingly, forgetting he had an audience for a moment. And she'd made sure to remember that rule was of the utmost importance and had always checked to see the shirt was safely tucked in its place before leaving the house.

Now she couldn't find it.

"I didn't move it."

Gold's tone could freeze Hell and cut through metal like it was butter. He tensed up, the fingers of his right hand digging into the handle of his cane till it almost seemed that the metal would give way. The old lady's voice shook a bit when she answered that it was likely, then, that Ashley had mistakenly taken the shirt with the rest of the dirty clothing to Granny's to be laundered.

He hung up, fighting the urge to smash the nearest curio to pieces. Fuck that stupid little nobody who'd thought it was okay to touch his blue shirt, Belle's blue shirt, and then send it to the laundry, when he'd left explicit instructions not to do so. He hastily scrolled to his contact list till he found the number for Granny's. Mrs Lucas, as always, was absolutely ecstatic to talk to him and couldn't defer him to his granddaughter fast enough. Ruby Lucas, fortunately, responded magnificently to threats and snarls, even though she liked to pretend they didn't get to her.

"That blue shirt? Yeah, it's already washed and pressed, Mr Gold."

_"What?"_ The waitress almost dropped the phone in her shock. She'd never heard anyone sound so angry and desperate at the same time and taking that it was Mr Gold it didn't bode well for next month's rent. In the end all she could do to appease him somehow was promising to deliver his shirt back to his house at once. She hastened to do as he asked, unearthing the damned shirt and letting Granny know she'd have to step out for half an hour even if they were already understaffed and almost immediately crashed right into Belle, who thankfully wasn't carrying anything that could potentially stain the shirt.

"God, I'm so sorry, Belle, it's just that I'm on a hurry and I totally didn't see you there, I swear...!"

She stopped apologizing at some point when she realized the librarian wasn't really paying attention to her. Her eyes were riveted on the shirt, taking in the slightly frayed cuffs and the faded loose stitching on the inside of the collar. It was almost as if she was seeing a ghost and not an ordinary piece of clothing.

"What's... what's that?"

If the waitress noticed the way her friend's voice wavered a bit she made no comment.

"Oh, it's Mr Gold's super special 'it wasn't supposed to be fucking cleaned, Miss Lucas!' shirt, which we got by mistake and laundered because, well, that's what he pays us to do. And now I'm supposed to drop everything I'm doing and run over to his creepy Victorian house just to deliver the shirt. Self-entitled asshole."

She was pretty sure Belle would chide her for her language and poor disposition, pointing out that the shirt likely held sentimental value for Mr Gold and she shouldn't be so uncharitable towards Mr Gold. She was the only one in town with a kind word to say about that... that beast. Surprisingly, however, Belle didn't scold her at all. She just kept staring at the shirt as if it was utterly fascinating, and the waitress had to shove her gently on the shoulder so she'd snap out of it.

"I... I can take the shirt, Ruby. I'm heading that way anyway."

As suspicious and wary as Ruby was she couldn't deny Belle's offer wasn't a relief. She struggled with the need to take her friend aside and prod her into telling her whatever was wrong with her but she really didn't have the time or the inclination to go to Gold's, fish out the key hidden deep inside a rose bush and leave the fucking shirt. She could always talk to Belle later.

"Thanks, you're a life-saver!"

She relied the instructions Gold had given her and tried not to notice the way Belle felt the fabric of the shirt as she handed it to her. Hopefully Mr Gold wouldn't blow a gasket because she'd delegated the task to someone else. As far as she knew he seemed to hold Belle in high regard. She'd often suspected that things went even deeper than that, thought with the pawnbroker it was really hard to tell.

He'd tried to keep on working, telling himself it was ridiculous to close up shop for a simple shirt. Besides, he reasoned, the damage was already done. The shirt was clean, smelling of green apples instead of the vanilla scent that characterized Belle. Whatever trace of her had been washed away and he'd make sure to get Ashley Boyd fired for that, even though it'd do him little good.

He lasted around fifty minutes in his shop, tinkering with a rather useless antique toy, before he decided that taking a personal day wasn't the worst thing in the world. He closed up quickly and efficiently, trying to walk sedately home. When he entered his house he shrugged off the feeling of loneliness that invariably ghosted over him, taking of his suit jacked to hang it in the coatrack. He'd instructed Ruby quite clearly to leave the shirt hanging there, wanting her to barely set foot inside his house, but he found nothing. Muttering a curse he repressed the urge to take his cane to the nearest breakable object, he limped towards the living room, careful not to snag his cane on anything in the dark, since he always asked for the curtains to be drawn after the house was clean, so the sun wouldn't bleach the carpets. Deftly avoiding bumping into the coffee table he let himself fall on the couch, closing his eyes to ward off the oncoming migraine.

"We need to talk."

He almost jumped out of the couch, opening his eyes to realize there was someone lying on his loveseat. It took him quite a bit more time to realize that it was Miss French, hair unbound and wearing his blue shirt and nothing else. She seemed completely at ease, stretched out over the dark rose upholstery like she'd spent many afternoons lazing around his living-room dressed in his clothing. He froze, half of him desperately wishing for her to be real and the other half praying fervently she wasn't because if she was, then she knew that shirt was his shirt and that he...

"Cat got your tongue, Raul?"

He couldn't tell if she sounded angry or not. She looked nonchalant, thought with a bit of an edge to her, a vulnerability that made her even more beautiful. Belle was all steel, yet all softness too, and it drove him insane. It took a while to register that she'd called him by his name, which did nothing to help him regain his senses.

"Miss French, what-?"

She laughed, almost against her will.

"You've seen me practically naked, I think we're rather past last names."

They were past a lot of things, but hopefully not all.

"Belle, then, what are you doing here? How did you...?"

She curled up on the loveseat, hands fidgeting with the cuffs of the shirt, which covered her hands. As slim and short as he was his shirt still somewhat drowned her.

"I bumped into Ruby at the diner. I noticed what she was holding almost immediately. Even if I used it only once before I memorized every single little detail about it." She kept her eyes on the cuffs of the shirt, which made it impossible to guess her thoughts. He fought for a shred of calm, his mind working overtime trying to figure out the best way to fix the mess he'd created.

"Belle... I..."

"Were you ever going to tell me?"

Honesty seemed like the best policy. Enough of lies and deceits.

"No. I... I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. I... I wanted to keep you safe, and help you. I saw what you were looking up on the computer at the library and tried to offer my help but you wouldn't take it, stubborn creature that you are. But I couldn't let you..."

"You were the reason I was never called back, were you? Why my pictures were always destroyed?"

Now she was looking at him, but her gaze gave nothing away. Her face was impassive, and only her curled up body gave a hint of fragility. He, on the other hand, felt utterly vulnerable, stripped bare somehow. He owed it to her to tell her everything, as much as he wished to keep some things to himself.

"Yes. I didn't want them to haunt you forever, all because you were trying to help your father. You're so good, and so brave... You shouldn't be punished for it."

He couldn't hide the earnestness in his voice if he'd tried. It was etched in his face too, his admiration for her, among other things.

"After a while, however, it became clear it wasn't enough. You looked... tired. Disgusted. Sad. I kept trying to coax you into accepting my help but you wouldn't budge. You were wasting away, was I supposed to do nothing?"

His defensiveness didn't bode well for him, but he wished her to know he'd meant well, beneath his own selfishness and his base desires. He'd meant to protect her, to help her. She seemed to be taking in everything, willing to listen and try to understand, which is more than he deserved from her.

"Then what?"

He hesitated, knowing that everything he'd said so far paled in comparison to the rest of his tale.

"I found out when you decided to look for something else, something more. And I... I couldn't let you- I mean, it was risky and out of the question, no matter how many times you rejected my help. I decided that if you were hell-bent on doing things your way then I'd oblige you. Plan things out so you would get what you wanted because of your own bravery, but still be protected. Safe."

It seemed silly, now, not to have noticed just how tailor-made for her the ad had been. It had all but asked specifically for her. At the time, however, she'd been under so much pressure and so stressed out she hadn't dared question it.

"You make it sound so impersonal on your side but if that has been the case you wouldn't have included your shirt among the clothing provided for me. There's a side to this I'm not hearing."

And it was a side he'd rather not tell, but it didn't seem like a possibility now.

"You... you know it. You must know it. You want me to spell it out? Why do you think I all but begged you to let me lend you money?" He noticed at that point that he was almost shouting so he forced himself to calm down. Belle was looking at him with wide, glassy eyes, her mouth open in surprise. Unwilling to frighten her he slumped back on the couch, fixing his eyes on the ceiling and keeping his hands glued to the handle of his cane.

"I've always been very realistic about it. I harbour no delusions about it and up until I first started to collect your father's rent from you I was happy with looking from afar, keeping my distance. But then you began to look more and more tired and fretful and alone and... No one noticed. It baffled me. And... I couldn't keep away."

It all sounded supremely pathetic, of course, which was quite accurate. He didn't dare look at Belle to see her reaction. He was, after all, a coward through and through.

"It wasn't as innocent as that, however. You did watch the tapes, after all. Else you wouldn't have known about the shirt."

She was right and he was past caring. He was pretty sure he'd already said enough to scare her off permanently, no need to mince words now.

"Of course I did. I thought I wouldn't at first. Wanted to be honourable, selfless... good. But I aren't any of those things, and I couldn't help myself- No, I could. I just didn't want to. I knew those recordings were the closest thing I'd ever get to being with you, so..."

"You don't sound very repentant."

"I'm not, actually. You did agree to doing them, no matter how many chances I made sure you had to think things through. You're your own person, you decide your own fate, I know that. I _see you_, Belle."

In the silence that followed his words her sharp inhale was easy to hear, though difficult to interpret. He no longer cared. After today Belle would never talk to him again, so there wasn't any reason to be careful.

"No, you don't."

Her words made him lower his head to look at her again. She seemed angry, but not as much as he'd have expected. Idly he wondered whether she'd tell anyone or save herself the humiliation. He hoped she'd agree to keep it a secret. He could only take so much rejection and scorn, after all.

"If you really saw me you'd have known... I practically threw myself at you that time at the library when I fell off the ladder! I thought I'd made such a fool of myself."

She glanced away from him, and even in the relative darkness of the room he could see a blush spread across her face and neck. He laughed in response, he sound bitter and unpleasant. It was an unkind response, but he didn't like being lied to.

"Don't... don't lie. I don't care for it. I remember trying to get close, trying to help, and you pushing me away. You are always nice and kind to an old monster, but he remains a monster still in your eyes. Otherwise you wouldn't have turned me down."

She sighed, indignant. Now she truly looked angry, and a part of him dimly noticed how agitated fury suited her. She turned to face him fully, her legs dropping till her feet were planted on the floor and the hem of his shirt barely covered her upper thighs.

"That's because I didn't want to have the same financial relationship everyone else in town has with you! Because I didn't want there to be money between us, or any debt of any kind. I felt like it would... ruin the chance of anything happening between us."

He didn't know at that point whether he wanted to believe her or not, because if she was telling the truth then he might have had a chance and he'd ruined it, all by himself. One look at her, all self-righteous anger and regret, made it clear that she wasn't lying.

"Why... why didn't you ever say anything?"

She ducked her head, but he caught sight of a faint, embarrassed smile all the same before it quickly flickered out.

"You didn't seem very interested in my subtle advances but, then, why would you be? I'm just the town librarian, daughter to the worst florist in Maine. There's nothing very special about me. I've always felt... well, ordinary." She paused, hands raking through her hair to keep it away from her face. She bit her lip, pensive. "I think that was part of why I consented to do the videos. The photo-shoots... those were a mess, and I hated them. But the video sessions made me feel... brave. And strong. And in control. I liked doing them."

There was nothing she could've said that would've aroused him more, no matter how wrong it was given the context. Even though everything else was confused and mixed up in his head that one detail was starkly etched into his mind. She'd liked doing those videos. It was almost Earth-shattering.

She expected him to say something, that much was clear, but he could do little else but look at her in a foolish, mooning fashion. He seldom got that look in his eyes, soft and liquid and sort of fragile, and he hated her. Belle, on the other hand, seemed fascinated by it, by the way he seemed to have stuttered to a stop, unable to function. She rose from the loveseat, carefully avoiding the coffee table to stand right in front of him. He stared at her shirt-covered stomach, noticing the way the fabric that once had touched his own skin creased around her form.

He was jolted out of his observations by a hand sinking into his hair and tugging at it till he raised his head. Belle's head was tilted to the side, her expression once more unreadable. Was she going to punish him now? Was she going to tell him what she planned to do?

"And did you like watching them, Raul? You did watch them all right?" Her fingers absentmindedly ran through his hair, nails scratching his scalp in what would have been soothing patterns in any other situation. Unable to do anything else he nodded. She smiled and took a hold of his cane before letting it drop on the rug, moving to straddle him next. Her hands settled on his shoulders, for leverage as well as support, and he inhaled deeply, taking in her scent.

"I'm glad." She was smiling, honest and open, and there was no trace of sarcasm or mockery in her voice. At his puzzled look she decided to elaborate. "It means that I owe you nothing. There's no debt standing between us. Anything else can be dealt with, including the fact that you lied to me, which you won't be doing ever again if you know what's good for you."

She began to pet his hair and it was almost impossible to make heads or tails of the situation when she was so warm and so close, smelling of vanilla and speaking in soothing, loving tones. Nothing made sense but it was too good to question so he simply nodded to her light admonishment. It was only when she tentatively kissed the crown of his head that he forced himself to ask what was going on.

"Well, the way I figure it we've, in very roundabout ways, confessed mutual attraction and affection and I thought that this would be the next logical step." For a moment she stopped petting him and he almost whined like a neglected little puppy, the sound getting caught on his throat at the last second. A look of embarrassment and doubt crossed her features. "Unless, of course, you don't want-"

It could hardly be counted as an act of bravery to kiss a woman who'd already confessed her partiality for him, but it felt like it took all of his courage to do so. Though evidently caught by surprise she didn't fight him, letting him wrap a hand loosely around her nape and guide her to his mouth. She tilted her head at the last minute, her mouth closing around his bottom lip and, in his opinion, fitting perfectly. At first it was chaste, tentative, more to reassure her- and himself- than anything. At some point, however, it changed. She pressed herself closer, making a low sound on her throat that went straight to his cock and, suddenly, he was crushing her to him, hands fisting on the blue shirt he usually treated with careful adoration. Her own arms came to wrap themselves around his shoulders, one delving into his hair and the other pressing between his shoulder blades, her nails digging into the skin of his back.

Trying to distract himself from the way her thighs were pressing against his own he licked the seam of her lips. She parted them instantly, welcoming his tongue in her mouth, encouraging it to explore. As he made a study of the roof of her mouth she slid her hands across his collar till her fingers reached the knot of his tie, untying it deftly before tossing the bit of silk away.

Her hands dropped to the waistband of his pants then and he panicked for a second, age-old self-doubt creeping up on him. Belle was quick to curl her tongue around his, making him moan and become distracted long enough for her to undo and remove his belt with no problems. He sighed when she unbuttoned his pants and untucked his shirt from beneath, a deep purple one with stripes. After that she made no move to undress him, going back to sinking her fingers into his hair and kissing him senseless.

It wasn't clear who started to move, but soon enough Belle was softly but firmly grinding her hips into his, Raul thrusting upwards in reply while he nipped and sucked on her neck, loving the little gasps and sighs he drew from her lips. He was uncomfortably hard, still mostly clothed and his ankle was starting to protest but Raul had found heaven nevertheless and he clung to it with all of his might.

When it became apparent that whatever was coiling inside of him was getting dangerously close to unravelling, however, he had to stop. He wouldn't come into his pants like a teenager while leaving Belle high and dry, no matter how much he feared that if they stopped for a second she'd somehow come to her senses and decide that no, she didn't want to have sex with a lame old man. Reluctantly he placed his hands on her hips to still her, pecking her lips to let her know nothing was amiss.

"Sweetheart..." He didn't know what to say, especially when she beamed at his endearment. "I'm an old fool who's spent far too long dreaming about this to last much longer and... I don't want to disappoint you."

It was a sign of his trust in Belle that he didn't immediately think she'd laugh at him. Far from it she appeared somewhat flattered and abashed, kissing his forehead and lingering there.

"I've dreamt about this too." Her sincere coyness was both charming and seductive and Raul smiled softly in response. "It doesn't have to last long, or be perfect. It just... has to be."

In her eyes he could see her own insecurities, how vulnerable she felt. But she was also the bravest person he'd ever met and it showed in the way she slowly unbuttoned her shirt, letting it gape open. He'd seen her bare chest before but still he stared as if he's never seen a naked female body before. He noticed a tiny scar below her right breast and a beauty spot near her bellybutton. Belle squirmed lightly above him, which prompted him to kiss her between her breasts, eager to show him how beautiful he thought she was. She fumbled with the buttons of his own shirt, managing to sort them all out. She tried to take it off, but his sleeve garters got in the way. Thankfully, instead of drawing attention to just how old he was, they made Belle laugh. Trying to aim for impish rather than embarrassed he bent over to nip at her collarbone in mock admonishment.

Her hands snuck to his pants slightly tugging on the fabric to prompt him to arch off the couch for a second so she could remove them along with his underwear, struggling with his socks and shoes for a moment. He forced himself not to look down or blush, letting Belle look her fill. It was only fair, after all. Then his fingers hooked on the waistline of her boy shorts and tugged them down slowly, giving her time to lift her knees off the sofa so they'd shimmy all the way down. She moved to shrug the shirt off, her last remaining piece of clothing, but he made a grab for it, shaking his head.

"No, please... Leave it on."

He pressed his forehead against her collarbone, unable to look at her in the eyes as he verbalized his request. She paused but remain relaxed and soft above him.

"Okay. The shirts stay on."

He turned his head to kiss her left breast in silent thanks, both for not mentioning the strangeness of his request and for wanting him to keep his own shirt on. It might be a silly detail but he felt more confident without being completely naked. There would be time for that, he hoped. Time for everything. Now, however, he was content to be merely nude.

She made a happy little sound, tiny and adorable, and he took it as incentive to keep exploring her chest. He licked her left nipple then, closing his mouth around it and letting his teeth nip at it. She shuddered in response, kneeling over the couch and holding onto the back for balance. He'd seen her drive herself into orgasm, he was quite happy to be the one doing most of the work for a change. It was a selfish desire as well, to wish to get her as aroused as he was before she went anywhere near his cock. It'd give him a fighting chance.

He suckled on each breast with the same eager abandon, his hands roaming her skin under the open shirt. She remained fixated on his hair, something to remember for later, and the way her nails dragged across his scalp sent tiny pinpricks down his back. His hips were aching to move but sheer force of will kept them still. Finally, when he found a sensitive spot on the side of her right breast she tugged him by the hair, pulling him away from her chest.

"Please..."

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her she wasn't ready, that he needed more time but, as soon as his fingertips ghosted over her sex, he realized how wrong he was. She was soaking wet, and deliciously warm and thank God, because he needed her desperately. Kissing her throat softly he tugged her down with one hand, the other grasping his cock to guide himself inside her. When he was fully sheathed they both stilled, seeming to savour the moment. She titled his head upwards, catching his lips with her and letting the kiss establish a rhythm. It was gentle at first, and slow, enjoying more the connection than anything else. After a while, however, they grew desperate, their thrusts increasing in speed and force as their moans grew louder and louder. He told her he adored her, that she was light and goodness and he wanted to never let her go. Belle, in turn, let him know how good he felt inside her, how much better reality was to her fantasies of him.

When she breathed out his name, in the same needy little tone than she had on the video, he lost it, coming rather abruptly with a low groan of his own. His right hand snuck between their still-joined bodies, delving into her slippery folds till he found her swollen clit. A pinch and a twist was all it took to feel her convulse around his softening cock, drawing out his pleasure till it was almost torture.

He didn't mind when she all but collapsed over him, nuzzling her face against the side of his neck with a happy little sigh. He petted her slightly-damp hair, wanting to reassure himself that yes, she was real and with him. When she finally moved it was only to snuggle more comfortably against his side, careful of his bad leg.

"Do you still have the video?"

Her voice was calm and warm but the mention of the DVD set him on edge. Still, as much as he'd like to lie and say he'd destroyed it, he owed her the truth.

"... yes."

She hummed in response, kissing his cheek.

"Good. I wanna watch it."

He fidgeted, feeling himself beginning to harden with a mixture of despair and pride, and tried to look as if nothing was amiss.

"... that could be arranged."

"With you."

_"Oh, sweetheart..."_

She was going to be the death of him.


End file.
